Sandy's Portrait

My name is Joyce

Sandy was a young woman with vibrant red hair who was having a horrible day. Struggling with maintaining her hold on her fragile grocery bags, working with making sure she kept her eyes on the bust stop, knowing if she did not she might miss it, and finally, she struggled with not hanging up on her mom.

"Do you even have an excuse for why you never visit me, Sandy?" Her words came off with a slight slur; Sandy knew her mother had drunk right before calling her," You think someone with not a lot of shit to do can make time for their mom?"

Sandy sighed. 'Not a lot of shit to do' was just her mom's reminder that she had no friends.

"Mom...I'm busy with my job and still have boxes to unpack. I DO have a lot on my plate if you believe it or not..." She quietly said the last five words.

"But enough to not even check in on me every once in a while?"

'If you want to see me so bad, what's stopping you?' Sandy desperately wanted to say, but she had to bite her tongue and continue to be the bigger person as usual. The last thing she wanted after an already long day was to get into an argument with her mom. She opted for the safest option.

"Mom...I'll call you as soon as I get home, 'kay?" She lied.

"Whatever." And without another word, she hung up. This was nothing new for Sandy.

Sandy pocketed her phone with a glower. She had no idea why she continued to bother with the woman. As a child, she had no choice but to deal with her constant narcissism and alcoholism. With her father being killed on duty a couple of months before she was born and her mom moving her clear across the country, she had no immediate family she could escape to. As a child, she promised that she would cut her out permanently as soon as she was an adult. She was sure her younger self would be disappointed that at 24, she still maintained contact with the woman who left her with the worst case of low self-esteem one has ever witnessed.

Was she just meant to deal with constant abuse forever? When would she be able to finally have the chance to let go and put herself first for once/

She yelped when she felt a body rudely bump into her. She cursed under her breath as some fruit from the bag tipped out. Brushing her curly, red hair behind her ear, she kneeled to scoop them back inside.

She looked up when a brown hand held an apple out to her. A black woman with dark brown braids and eyes to match, wearing all black, gazed down at her with a blank face. This had been the person who had bumped into her without so much as an apology. Sandy glared at the taller woman. With a deep breath, she took the apple with sharp gratitude.

The woman didn't respond. Instead, she crossed the street, leaving Sandy alone.

Sandy was usually not the type to take disrespect from strangers, but there was no point in taking her anger out on one now. It'd just lead to another headache. She just wanted to get home without any other issues, shower, and end the night with video games.

Standing after picking up the slightly damaged fruit, worry washed over her. Her bus had arrived at it's stop, and it still wasn't her turn to cross the street. Right as the blinking white light indicated for her to cross, it had become too late. The last passenger, the woman in black, irritatingly enough, had the doors closed behind her.

Dread sank into the pit of her stomach as the doors closed. This would be the last bus for the night, and with no money for a ride share, she'd have no choice but to walk.

She awkwardly waved her arm in front of the bus, hoping to catch the drivers' attention. She didn't care how crazy she looked. She'd be damned on walking five miles at night. Unfortunately, her efforts were futile. The bus had already taken off before she had finished crossing the street. The last she saw of it was that same woman settling down in the back,